


Let's Break Our Rule Together

by corinnemaree



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Porn With Plot, Roommates, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-07-20 02:23:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7386841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinnemaree/pseuds/corinnemaree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve rules must be followed for Claire and Owen to live together. Owen and Claire find that it's becoming harder and harder not to break a few rules. But they’re going to break just about every single one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Decision

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. Things. This is a thing. This is a dirty little selfish, indulgent thing. This is filth and trash and omg you’re gonna love it. have fun. xx

Following the breakup from his long time girlfriend, Owen was in need of a new apartment. He was living with his sister for a short time, but it was far too confining for them to get on safely. So, he searched everywhere. It wasn’t until tempers were at boiling point that Owen found an advert.

_‘Desperately need roommate. Good large room for rent._

_Will accept anyone. No creeps though._

_If male, there are rules and conditions._

_Please contact me here.’_

Owen called the number labelled at the bottom, arranging to meet with the woman the next day. Her name was Claire Dearing. They stayed on the phone for a while, talking about where it was, what the view from his window could be and if he minded that she held a lot of company. Owen knew exactly what she meant and knew it was no issue as he was more than likely the same. Owen arrived the next day, eager and ready to get out of his sister’s apartment. Barely greeting him at the door, a red-headed woman handed him a piece of paper. A list of rules that must be followed by everyone who wanted the room.

Twelve rules to be exact.

  1. Must wear at least underwear around apartment on weekends, more clothes during the week in case of visitors
  2. Do not leave the toilet seat up
  3. Don’t drink from the milk carton
  4. Clean up your goddamn mess, especially in the kitchen
  5. Cooking communal meals is welcome, especially if I can’t cook. If we both can’t, we must share the take-out bill
  6. Under no circumstances are we to sleep together, at all
  7. Do not come into the bathroom when I am using it
  8. Do not insult my guests - including the ones only staying the night
  9. Do not get chummy with the guys I sleep with - I only want to see them the once
  10. If I label food as mine, for the love of god, don’t eat it
  11. My room is off limits at all hours of the day and week - I like my privacy and what I do in my spare time will not be discussed. I won’t mention your moans if you won’t mention mine.
  12. Please be nice to my nephews. They visit the first saturday of every month



Owen knew he shouldn’t have smiled at the list, merely nodded and agreed, but part of him - a large part of him - wanted to break every rule on that list. Starting with number six. He agreed on the spot and Claire showed him his room. He watched her walk, discreetly of course, but avoided doing such again. Yes, Claire was beautiful, beyond beautiful if Owen was being honest, but he wanted to make this work, he wanted this woman in his life for some strange reason. So he would play by the rules, have his ego boosted by any other woman at a bar.

They had been living together for about two months, getting on pretty well with their work schedules and helping them avoid unwanted visitors or getting rid of guests. Owen was respecting the rules quite well, not complaining and cooking when he needed to. He wasn’t the best cook but he also wasn’t the worst. Claire could cook some incredible meals, but also made some terrible meals. He didn’t complain though.

Traditions were made early on, weekly movie nights on Fridays, talking about their week and how work was going. Claire worked as a executive manager at Masrani Global, a job that she loved but also wore her out by the end of the week. Owen had found that she rested her feet on his lap every Friday, expecting a foot rub and he complied generously. Claire even got Owen a new job, his old one at a sandwich shop was just killing him. His new job was in the assets division, which he didn’t realise was an animal unit. He had worked with animals before, even in the navy, but he didn’t think Claire was listening to him at all.

Eventually, Owen caught onto Claire’s routine, when she usually wanted a fling and how often she would have guests. But there was one guy that Claire was hooked on; Peter Fawkes. When Owen thought about it, he didn’t understand Claire’s interest in him; he was boring and egotistical, yet he had such a fondness of Claire, she may have been caught up in it. Or maybe he was jealous. Either way, Owen didn’t like the guy. There was also a smut look on Peter’s face after a night together.

Peter wasn’t awful, especially to Claire, but he was just irritating. He didn’t intimidate Owen in the slightest, but he was tall enough to match Owen’s height but had far darker hair than his dusted blond head. Peter kept himself fit, over confidently sometimes, almost as though he trying to show himself off in front of Owen - it was quite confusing. Yet, no matter how much time and how many nights Peter spent with Claire, their relationship was undefined. Claire said she didn’t mind it, but there was something in her eyes that made Owen worry.

Owen walked into the kitchen, stretching and yawning as the morning light was creeping into their apartment. When the fridge door closed, he ran straight into Claire, who impacted hard with Owen. She spilled orange juice all over him and dropped the carton to the floor out of fright. “Oh, shit, sorry,” she apologised. Owen looked down at his shirt, drenched in the juice. He gave a small huff. Claire rushed around, trying to clean the floor as quickly as possible.

“Listen, it’s fine,” Owen said, taking his shirt over his head and tossing it towards the laundry. He bent down, grabbing one of the towels from Claire’s hand.  “You need help cleaning?” he asked, looking at her, drawing Claire’s attention to him.

“No, I’m fi-” she stopped and Owen’s brow crinkled. Her cheeks went bright red. “Where did your shirt go?” she asked, her voice a littler higher than what it once was. They both stood in unison.

“I threw it in the laundry,” Owen explained slowly and Claire had a blank expression on her face, glazed over and concentrating purely on Owen. She swallowed hard for a moment before Owen clicked his fingers in front of her eyes. “You okay, Claire?”

Claire shook her head, clearing her throat and avoided looking directly at him now. “Fine, um, just didn’t quite expect you to be shirtless,” she took the towels from his hand and rushed off to the laundry, picking up his shirt along the way.

“Can easily take off my pants too, show you the whole package!” Owen suggested loudly. Claire gave off a small giggle.

“You’re an ass, you know that?” she snapped back, smiling widely though.

“Oh, yeah,” Owen grinned brightly back.

That incident wasn’t something they discussed, or brought up again. Owen didn’t feel it necessary to talk about it, to bring up something that could cause embarrassment and probably a rift between them. Instead, he bit his tongue and moved on; all the while holding onto that memory of a flustered and blushing Claire. A few days following, Claire was getting ready for another night out with Peter when Owen went to the bathroom. When he opened the door, Claire turned around, shocked and brow furrowed.

Clad only in a towel that slipped down in fright and fear, Claire yelled at Owen. “Dude! Rule seven!” she squeaked, throwing a hand towel at him. He bit his lip slightly before gasping and turning around, covering his face.

“Shit, sorry! Sorry!” he said, cursing himself and waiting at the door until Claire was finished. She walked out with her towel tightly bound to her body. Claire gave a hard punch to his arm, marching off.

“You better not have seen anything,” she warned him. Owen was biting at the inside of his cheek before the words fell out of his mouth.

“You have a really good ass, by the way,” he called out. He heard the floorboards shift slightly as Claire came back around the corner, eyebrows raised. Owen scratched the back of his head, worried that he’d been an ass. “Sorry, I was going to bite my tongue but I -”

“You think so? Is my workout really paying off?” Claire said, turning around just a little to look at her ass. Owen chuckled lightly as he folded his arms.

“I’d say hell yes,” he nodded. Claire smiled brightly before turning on her heels.

“Don’t make it a habit, okay?” she warned, but Owen watched her walk out of the room. God, she was so tempting. Too damn tempting.

Three weeks following that, Owen went out on a Saturday night, knowing that Claire was probably having Peter over. Plus the problem of Owen thinking of his roommate in sexual ways was getting a bit distracting and uncomfortable for him to function around Claire sometimes. He took himself to a club, had one drink and called it a night; there was no one there taking his attention and every woman that walked up to him wasn’t even shining a light compared to Claire. Walking for some of the night, lazy strides to waste time.

Owen didn’t want to walk home to hear Peter and Claire together, his ego and unhinged desires could not take it. There was something about that thought that could never sit right with Owen. When rounding the corner nearest to 9:30, he didn’t find Peter’s car sitting next to the curb. So, Owen made his way up the steps, went into the elevator and opened the front door. He found Claire sitting in front of the TV on the couch, her knees up to her chest as she cuddled herself.

There was something odd about it, how fragile she seemed. When she heard the door close, Owen heard her sniff before she wiped her face. Claire brightened as she spotted Owen and patted the spot next to her. Owen put down his keys, heading to the couch and jumping in a spot right next to Claire. She was wearing the most beautiful dress he had ever seen, hugging at her waist in the dull baby blue. She was elegance and temptation wrapped in beautiful fabric.

The silence became torture and Claire’s fingers drumming on her calf were becoming repetitive and distracting. “Okay, what’s wrong?” Owen huffed and Claire tucked her legs to the side before prepping up on her knees, edging towards Owen. He held tightly into the arm of the chair, watching as the thin strap fell along her shoulder and that bright red hair fell in front of her face. She was a goddess, desire and lust were her gifts and she was using them without the slightest idea of doing so.

“I like Peter, you know this, but okay, so he likes me too right but he has been avoiding coming to home with me in a while. And like, at the restaurant, we sat in the booth together, and he was having his own fun,” she began explain. Owen was unsure at first until Claire fluttered her eyelashes, making it perfectly clear that Peter had made good use of his fingers at dinner. And he wasn’t using them for the food.

“Right, go on,” Owen cleared his throat.

“And when I asked him to come back here, he said ‘I have work tomorrow, sorry.’ Like what does that mean? It’s Sunday tomorrow, who works on a Sunday?” Claire huffed, falling back into the couch and huffing. “Now I’m horny with no outlet,” she sulked, her legs falling onto Owen’s lap. God, her legs were milky and soft, perfect and dangerous. She was beginning to entice him and he was dreading the next few moments.

“I can’t help you out there, but have fun,” Owen urged her legs from his lap and made his way to his bedroom. He didn’t close the door, just a few minutes to himself to breathe. Taking off his jacket, he heard Claire walk to her room, door creaking but not shutting. Owen paced his room, counting the steps he took to keep his mind from racing. Then he heard something he didn’t expect; he heard moaning. Breaking past the gap in his door, he took careful steps towards Claire’s room, the definite sounds of desperate whimpering.

When he got there, the door was cracked open, a perfect view into Claire’s room and looking upon her bed. He was breaking rule eleven, he knew he was. But there she was, laying on her bed, hand reaching inside her underwear and the other hand clawing at her exposed breast. Her toes were curling into the sheets, slipping at the silk under foot as her hand made motions to intoxicate her desires. Fingers playing her her nipple and tight teeth bound at her bottom lip, Owen was at his tipping point, eager to step forward, yet unable to break away from watching. He had to satisfy his hunger, he had to sedated the beast that lingered in his veins.

Taking off towards his bedroom once more, he kicked off his shoes, the image of Claire imprinted in his mind. He threw off his clothes quickly, leaving himself in his underwear and settling down onto his bed. He felt the hardening of his cock quickly even as he reached his hand into his underwear. He stared up at the ceiling, his hand moving over his shaft as he rushed to shut his eyes and keep the image of Claire in his sight.

His hand moved over his cock, the beautiful thought of Claire touching herself in the other room racing over his thoughts. Imagination took hold, his hand working over himself, yet in his mind, Claire was on top of him, her hips rocking into him with precision and intent. She was delicate but also wild, a perfect combination. She would whimper and moan with the feel of his cock inside of her. Owen’s hand worked over his cock faster, the ever present sound of Claire’s moans becoming louder.

In his mind, she was racing to her finish, the moans of reality matching that of his imagination. Owen had to make sure that he was keeping up, giving her everything he had when he couldn’t even touch her. Claire was panting in the next room, yet in his mind, she was throwing her head back, begging for his lips on her skin. God, how he craved it. There was a tightening at the base of his spine, a coil building in the pit of his stomach. Claire’s moans were getting louder, her brink almost reached. Owen’s hand moved faster, readying his climax when Claire gave out a sharp squeak to stifle a desperate moan.

Owen was fixated on the image of Claire throwing her head back, hand clasped on her breast as his cock as filling her and bringing her to the edge. Quickening his pace, his orgasm near its edge, Owen took the image and savoured it. Then, his climax broke, his hips thrusting upward and legs shaking as his orgasm came in bursts. He gasped before moaning in a throaty cry. He felt his cum soak slightly into his boxer briefs, the afterglow of a beautiful Claire echoed in his mind as desires were dwindling within him.  

Bliss washed over him delicately, his vision a daze of the ceiling and satisfaction. Then, there was the definable shift in weight on the bed. Owen glanced up, watching as Claire carefully moved up the bed, a look in her eyes that made Owen’s heart jump. “Claire…”  he muttered, her hands going to his underwear, urging the band down. Claire let her finger run over the cum that sat on his hip, licking it from her fingers before she leaned down, her tongue dancing over his hipbone. “Fuck,” Owen cursed, feeling her tongue drag perfectly over his cock. He let his hand bind into the sheet before urging himself upwards, meeting Claire at her eye. “What about the rules?” he asked, panting a little. Claire lifted his underwear back up.

“Only a few rules broken so far,” she smirked, resting her hand on Owen’s chest. He wondered if she could feel his beating heart racing underneath her palm. “New rule,” she said, pushing him back down to the bed. “we’re allowed to happen...but only on my terms and if you’re up for it,” she battered her eyelashes and Owen nodded.

“Always,” he muttered, trying to rise once more, but was pushed down like it was effortless for Claire.

“Watch it, big guy,” she whispered. “don’t let this go to your head. We’re just having fun from time to time, don’t get attached.” Claire was about to move away when Owen caught her hand.

“Hey,” he said in a husky voice. Taking her hand, he tugged at her a little, taking her fingers into his mouth, sucking and tasting the tang that still remained on the tips.

“What are you doing?” Claire asked.

“Just seeing if I could taste you,” Owen smirked and Claire bit her lip. She took her hand away from him, laying it in the sheets.

“Oh, you’re a sneaky little thing, aren’t you?” Claire said, moving up the bed just a little. She pressed her hands into the mattress either side of Owen, lips hovering over his own. Owen moved up, trying to catch her lips with his own, Claire’s teasing finally catching up with her. Breath hitching, Owen skidding his palm up her cheek.

“If you want to go now, I’ll gladly do my service,” Owen smirked. Claire giggled back, touching her finger against his lips.

“You’re going to be bad for me, I can feel it,” she smiled. Owen quickly took her into his embrace, laying her down on the bed and holding her underneath him, noting the small drops of sweat that lay on her forehead.

“Want to see how bad I can be?” he asked, leaning in close, feeling Claire’s slim hands glide up his back from the base of his spine. Her fingers danced, over his skin, catching the beads of sweat that lay upon him.

“Some other time, big guy, some other time,” she whispered and Owen smiled back. He lifted from on top of Claire, letting her gracefully leave the bed and step onto the floorboards. She bit her lip before sneaking past the door on tipped toes. Owen fell back onto his bed, arms outstretched on the bed, a smile slowly taking its place on his lips.

They didn’t quite interact much for the next week, they avoided each other much more than was normal. Claire would head to work early, use errand people to communicate with Owen and get home before he would and would lock herself in her room. It wasn’t as if Owen was trying to gain her attention; he would follow her rules, including the new one until it was her choice.

Then, Friday arrived. Owen was able to come home earlier that day, so he was set up in front of the TV, watching a few movies as he relaxed in his sweatpants and think tank top. He was reclining into his spot, not entirely upright and was relaxed. The door opened, a somewhat exhausted Claire stepped through the door. Owen perked up, clearing his throat.

“It’s okay, I’ll just -”

“It’s movie night, stay where you are,” Claire interrupted, a bright smile on her face as raced to her room, got changed into an old overtly large jumper she had taken from one of her boyfriends. She rested up on the other side of the couch, one of the new movies playing and silence ran through the air.

When the movies were getting dull, the time running scarce, it was beginning to seem like they were both tired of each other’s company. Then, Claire did something unexpected. She huffed before getting straight on top of Owen’s lap, rushing him straight out of his tank top and fiddling with the string on his sweatpants and letting the band smack against his stomach.

“Woah, okay, are you horny today?” he asked, feeling the soft rock of her hips against his. Claire rolled up the jumper, bunching it around her waist, revealing the lace underwear that he thought he once saw her wear whilst walking around the apartment.

“I have not been able to get your cock out of my head for a week and I really just want to feel it inside of me,” Claire smiled before she paused. “Are you okay to go? I’m not pushing you am I?” she bit into her lip and Owen couldn’t take it. Taking his hands to her face, brought her down, kissing her sharply and gasping as they parted.

“Shut up and take your underwear off,” Owen smirked and Claire bit at her lip again before leaning forward and taking Owen’s lips again. Her hips were rocking against his, an effort to make him hard, and god was it working.

Owen knew he was hard enough now, so he tapped on Claire’s leg, she moved to take off her underwear and he urged his pants and boxers down to the middle of his thighs. Claire took her place on top on Owen’s lap once more, sinking down delicately. Owen groaned as Claire gasped. They stayed still for just a moment, giving soft rocks into each other, but not going wild as Owen’s body craved to do.

Then, Claire’s hand, with a slight tremor, took Owen’s and guided it up her jumper. He felt the warm skin of her breast, the small intake of breath as his cold fingers started to play with her nipple. Then, Claire gave a harder rock against Owen’s hips, and he gave a small thrust to meet her in pleasure. She moaned and Owen clenched his jaw, he felt the need, even in that moment to restrain his lust, to let her have full rein, yet there was a part of him that wanted to ravish her body.

It took a moment before Owen felt right about taking better control of their bodies, thrusting in small bursts, not rushing the moment. Claire moaned each time, savouring the way he felt before Owen found Claire’s hand meeting in his hair. From there, Claire used her hand to push herself to more pleasurable positions and quickening her pass.

“Faster,” Claire squeaked, her hand binding tightly into Owen’s hair. Grabbing at her hips, fingers digging in deeper to her skin, Owen gained the upper hand, thrusting upward as he brought Claire down with every movement. Claire threw her head back, perfect for Owen’s lips to latch into her neck, tongue dancing over her sweat soaked skin and the goosebumps forming over her delicate spot.

She was exactly how he imagined her to be; perfect, delicate and fragile to the touch, but each rock was aggression and shook to the core. Claire was a master of disguise, the beautiful and sensitive woman masked the fact that she was a stone cold bitch that could tear his heart out. “Like that?” he asked, slamming her down against him once more and she cried out a little harder. When Owen looked at her, she had a beautiful and intoxicating smile imprinted on her lips, a look that told him she was enjoying every second of this.

The tension that built in Owen’s chest was forcing him to indulge in his fantasies, in his lust and desires; he wanted her more than he wanted air to breath; he wanted her to be the reason to take a breath to keep living. He drew her in a little closer, tasting her lips and savouring how her lips felt against his, the plumpness of them and how she could make one kiss feel like a thousand. She was perfection, and he was taking perfection to ecstasy with every push of his body.

They were matching each other in moans and grunts, pulling each other in and dragging themselves away to tease and relish in their devious ways. Then, Claire’s moans became quicker in succession, her inner walls clamping down around him, trying to keep him with her. She let go of his hair as her hands took their place on his chest and tried to hold onto him with flat palms. Suddenly, it was like a drug was taking over in her body and her climax broke. Her body arched and nails dug into Owen’s chest, scraping down until they reached his stomach. Owen hissed, taking wild and aggressive movements to push himself to breaking point. He held Claire close, her face next to his and she was moaning into his ear desperately; which only spurred him on.

Wrenching Claire’s jumper over her head, Owen’s mouth went directly to her nipple, his tongue playing over it as Claire chuckled a little. Her body was coming down from her orgasm, but she could easily have another one soon, and Owen wanted it more than anything. Claire moaned a little before saying, “Come on, you can do better than that.” She knew exactly what she was doing.

Owen thrust into her faster, her little squeak of surprise was all he needed as confirmation, but there was the added bonus of her inner walls clamping down around him a little tighter. The coil at the pit of his spine was aching and begging for a release, and he wanted it more than anything. Owen took his mouth from her nipple before biting into the top of breast. He wasn’t too rough, just enough to - “Oh, God, yes!” To do that.

Owen kept it up, feeling Claire’s edge just about to break as the coil snapped and Owen came. Claire bellowed out her cry, her orgasm washing over his shaking cock. They were left in tremors and aftershocks of their combined orgasms. Owen kept Claire rocking against him a little, just to help them ride it out, feel her body relaxing and coming down from the moment. Claire sat up straight on Owen’s lap, hands into his shoulders as a blissful smile took over her face.

“Holy shit,” Claire breathed out, combing her hand through her hair. Owen let his hand glide up the side of her face, his breath shaken and he could still feel Claire’s trembling leg against his hipbone.

“Better or worse?” he asked in a soft chuckle. Claire nodded.

“Much better than expected,” she muttered, rocking her hips into his again, as though she wanted to go all over again, take the ride from start to finish in a matter of seconds.

“You okay there?” Owen asked, his hand on her thigh, feeling her soft milky skin underneath his rough palm.

“My god, how do you still feel good inside of me?” Claire asked, arching her back a little. “What the hell have you done to me?” she asked, whimpering and biting her lip. She was a contradiction, delicate yet rough in her movements. Owen knew he was falling for it all, and would willingly do so a thousand times over.  

“You want to get up now?” he asked, but instead of pushing her off, he guiding his arm around her back, pulling her into him, making her lean down.

“Never,” she whispered. Her lips met his, fierce and erotic, nothing romantic, just lust and desire in its purest form. They both craved it, needed it more than energy, just the need and want of the other person.

“You’re gonna have to stop doing that,” he muttered, sighing in wonder and lust.

“Why?” Claire asked in a hearty breath before diving straight back into his lips.

“Cause it’s fucking addicting,” Owen smirked in between another kiss and Claire giggled. They were pinned together for a few moments, just kissing and indulging and the perfect sensations of the other, their lips making unsung conversations between each other. What broke them apart, unfortunately, was Claire’s phone buzz on the coffee table. Claire sighed, leaning over to retrieve her phone.

“Oh, shit, that’s Peter,” she cursed, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Do you have to go?” Owen asked in a sharp huff. Claire looked at him, noticing the disappoint in his, and shrugged.

“Yes,” Claire said simply. Owen let his hands fall from Claire’s body, looking off to the window nearby. Claire’s finger directed his face back to hers, tilting his chin up to kiss him with hungry lips. “Just something you can hold onto in the meantime,” she mumbled against his lips before getting up and taking her underwear and jumper with her. Owen sighed as he dressed himself once more and saw a now tidied up looking Claire walk out the front door, waving as she departed. Owen gave a half wave as she closed the door before he fell back into the couch.

“Oh, I’m so doomed,” he muttered to himself, running his hands over his face.


	2. Take What I Can Get

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I hate this chapter...but the smut is good i think so there’s that. have fun.

Three months. Three months was all it took for Owen to forget he was having a friends-with-benefits kind of situation. It was, of course, one sided. He started feeling for Claire, but she would come home, hot and bothered, and Owen was hers. He denied himself the pleasure of indulging in her, more so trying to avoid her some nights. It was just hard for him; hard for him to resist her. He hated it because he thought it’d be the last thing he’d do, these things were the very last things he wanted for he and Claire. 

That night, a brisk saturday, he was in his room, watching a movie and silently noting the things he needed to get done the following week. He had come home from the store and Claire was already gone. She did say she had a date and usually, these days, she would go out with Peter. Owen had thought about why Claire was even interested in Peter, a guy that only seemed to care about who she was physically. 

Owen was exhausted, mainly from work. The animal division was fun and he enjoyed it everyday. Yet, there were some days where it was just too exhausting to cope with. Owen was still reeling from Friday’s long hours. He knew he had a lot of work to do, including that of training new lion cubs, so work was on his mind. Yet, Owen felt his thoughts drawn to Claire. She was there to tempt him and he knew he was being ridiculous and selfish.

Taking his place on his bed, comfortable and relaxed, Owen felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness. He hadn’t realised how drained he was until sleep was trying to embrace him. Without a second warning, Owen was fast asleep, only awoken by the call of his name. He jumped up, recognising Claire’s angelic voice and he got up swiftly. Rubbing his face, he wandered out from his bedroom.

“Hey, I didn’t get to see you before your date!” Owen called out from his room, his legs lazily taking him to the kitchen. “Was it good?” he asked just before he saw her. Claire shut the front door, locking it behind her and sighing. She was dawned in a black dress that had a neckline that plunged down to her navel. She had a jacket over the top, yet with the way she was put together, she was perfectly tempting. Owen’s jaw clenched and taking his hand to the back of his neck, a firm grip as he stared.

“I wore this damn dress and it didn’t get me laid, so I’m a little annoyed,” Claire sighed, her hand falling to the wall as she started to take off her heels. She shrugged out of her jacket, placing it down on the kitchen bench along with her purse. 

“So…” Owen started, licking at his lips. He moved towards Claire slowly, avoiding the notion that he might have been moving towards her to get somewhere with her. “No Peter?” he asked quickly, tucking his hands into his pockets and Claire shrugged, gesturing down to her pristine look.

“No Peter,” she rolled her eyes and smiled at Owen almost innocently, but Owen wanted her more intensely than he ever had. With his resistance at it’s end, he gave out a soft chuckle before biting his lip.

“Thank fuck,” he muttered and walked to her in a few steps. Grabbing hold around her waist, he pinned her up against the wall, his lips on hers and her body was already responding to his. She breathed harshly, her head craning back before Owen took hold of her jaw and kept her there, kissing her with every ounce of pent up desire he could spare.

“I thought we said it was on my terms,” Claire asked, her hands pinned up over her head. Owen, hitching up Claire’s dress, had his body pressed up against Claire’s, a sensation he tried to repress and now relished in. Claire, in herself, was intoxicating; one taste of her and he just couldn’t seem to get enough. He never could. 

“Not tonight,” he breathed out before taking her lips again. Claire gave a hearty moan and all that Owen could think was that she was going to get laid that night and he was going to make it memorable. Letting Claire’s hands go, he held onto her thighs and pulled her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and pinning her to the wall again. He was kissing along her neck, letting his lips trail down her chest and feeling the goosebumps rise on her skin as he got lower.

“Owen,” she gave a small plea. Owen felt her hands start to snake down when he pulled them to her sides. 

“You’re mine tonight. No one else’s. Just mine,” he mumbled against her skin, his hands soon running up the inside of her dress, forcing it up towards her waist. Forcing her underwear to the side, Owen took his own length in hand, stroking it with awful intention. Claire’s finger touched under his chin, her eyes filled with temptation and lust.

“Then start acting like it. Take me however you want me,” she dared him. Panting from just staring at her eyes, Owen forced his lips to hers. Her moan welcoming and his tip sliding into her easily; her wetness making it easy and beautifully slick. Claire gasped, her head falling back onto the wall and a deep moan radiating from her chest. Her impatient hands dug into her own palms, slamming against the wall or fiddling with her dress. With her creased brow, Owen knew she was being stubborn, trying to restrain the urge to need him; his own orders backfiring against him. 

“Stop being proud and hold me,” he ordered once more, her hands quickly going to his neck and shoulders. She was getting so weak, defenceless to him now. Owen gave a hard thrust into her, another moan that had Claire on edge and gasping for Owen. And Owen was complying. 

Taking her hips, Owen buried his face in her neck. Claire's nails started scraping up his shirt, leaving a lingering sharp mess on his back. Panting into her skin, her body was reacting in every way he wished it would. Wrenching the shirt over his head, Claire threw it over the room before her hands were either side of his face. Panting as she stared at Owen; she wanted to speak, wanted to say something more than her wordless breaths. 

“Scream, Claire. I want to hear you say my name,” Owen grunted, his mouth going tight and Claire's hands in his hair as she yelled his name. Over and over. His name was in the room, lingering and loud. Owen craved to hear it the more. Pushing his hips into hers as hard as he could. His name was yelled louder, God thrown in the mix when he was holding her close. 

Her panting was getting heavy, her body reacting hard and she was curving her body into his. Owen loved it, loved the way she felt, loved her in her entirety. Sex was incredible - beautiful - and Owen needed her for who she was. He could feel her edging towards her climax, her hand was on his back, nails in deep to his skin. When she finally came, her voice was tight and her body almost stilled. She was broken down to her core. Her nails unable to stay pinned, dragged over his back and broke his skin. 

Claire’s hands were around the back of his neck, holding on tight as her head was against the wall. She was gasping heavily, Owen’s thrusts constant and all he wanted was to feel her come again and again, begging for him with every gasp she had. “Bed,” Claire squeaked. A demand that Owen was willing to comply with. 

Pulling on the small of Claire’s back, tugging her into him that he was at his base. Claire gasped a little harsher and there was a sudden intimacy they shared; eyes locking and a wave of adrenaline kicked in. A kiss that was unlike any other they had shared was taken, tender lips and shaky breaths; they were nervous from their own intimacy. Claire's body was shaking against his, trembling with aftershocks and anticipation. Owen was sure his own body was doing the same. They were weak for each other, melting at the touch but never with their stamina or affection. 

Taking quick steps, Owen took them to his bedroom. Letting Claire onto her feet and Owen immediately wanted to see her for everything she had to offer; her beauty, her marks, her scars and all the things she wanted to hide. He wanted to see her as he had done countless times before but this time it felt different. Taking her dress over her head, she pulled at his pants and took them down. Individually, they stripped from their underwear, both items of clothing falling near each other. Claire bit her lip, before smirking and Owen chuckled. Owen scooped her up into his embrace, kissing her quickly. 

Claire moaned intensely, her arms pulling on Owen, tugging him down. Letting her fall first, he rested his weight onto his forearms and their lips maintained together. Claire led herself up the bed, finding the most comfortable spot before she settled. Owen ran his lips over her navel, his fingers running delicately over her clit. Claire was already reeling from it all and Owen was enjoying himself far too much. Her little whimpers and whines, they made him want her the more. He wanted her more than just sex; he wanted to feel her skin against his, the sinful nature of flesh but it didn’t need to be that way.

Capturing her lips once more, Owen let his tip slide over her, teasing her simply and she was already throwing her head back. It was as if she had some power over him, and he was suddenly unable to hold back. Taking a deep stride, they both moaned together. When they locked eyes, hers told him not to hold back anymore; he wasn’t going to.

Moving as one, they rocked together, Claire’s hands on Owen’s shoulders. Then, they started to get into a rhythm, in sync and heated breaths. Owen’s body was right up against hers, the warmth radiating off of their skin and the sweat beading off of them frantically. Her mouth was gaping open, pressing into his shoulder and her teeth bit down. Owen hissed at the sensation, then felt the soft rumble of Claire’s laugh on his shoulder. “You think you’re the best gift to the world, don’t you?” he smirked, looking down at her. She shook her head. 

“No,” she mumbled, her eyes falling shut for a moment before she looked back at Owen. “Just you.” 

Owen bit at his lip, taking her lips moments later. Wrapping his arms around her, he tossed them back and forth, Claire’s echoes of her laughs filling the room before Owen stopped Claire on her back once more. Thrusting deep into her, she moaned graciously. Taking hold of the side of her hip, Owen huffed as he thrust into Claire again. She moaned as their hips collided, a strained gasp that turned into a shout. Owen smiled, kissing along her neck, their rhythm matching. Claire's hips would buck, her moans intoxicating to Owen. 

They were moving as one, knowing the exact way to have the other reeling. Owen was forceful, the gasps of encouragement with every thrust, whereas Claire was wild; her nails dragging in his skin or fingers pulling on his hair. They were urge each other towards their ends, Claire just a little faster than Owen, though he wasn't far behind. Her gasps were becoming harsher, harder to restrain and keep under wraps. Owen was getting far too confident for his own good, and knew he would be saying things he just wanted to know. “When you’re with them, do you think of me?” he asked with a forceful grunt following. 

It took a moment before Claire could respond, her nails still trying to stay in his back. “Always.” Her whine was heard, but it wasn’t enough for him. 

“Do you want to moan my name?” he asked, Claire moaning deeply again. Her nails tore up his back, making him hiss and force himself into her harder. 

“Yes,” she called out, her hand going to the back of his neck and forced him to kiss her. He forced them apart, watching her chest heave once more before he knew they were both on their last legs. Claire was far closer than he was, taking his hips against Claire’s again, her body so close to it’s edge it was going to set Owen off himself. He had more thrusts in him, and in between his thrusts, he asked one simple question. 

“Do you wish they were me?” 

He waited once more but she responded as her orgasm was reached. “Yes!” Claire said, her head burying into the pillow before her back arched, her hands in the bedsheets and a loud, unrestrained moan radiated from her chest and echoed around the room. Owen’s coil snapped, unable to move anymore, his hips jerking up against hers. 

Then, there was just hard breathing. Both Claire and Owen were breathing like they had been underwater and needed the air more than anything. When Owen knew he could, he slipped out of her with ease and Claire gasped, still panting like her life depended on it. Owen kissed her quickly, a small moan and the unmistakeable shake in Claire’s hand as it touched underneath Owen’s chin. Looking back at Claire, she was dazed, unable to keep her eyes fixed or open.

“You okay?” Owen asked in between pants. He stroked the hair out of Claire’s face, her eyes unfocused and her breathing harsh.

“I’m just a little…” she said, smacking her lips. She shook her head suddenly, a hand resting on her forehead before she combed back her fringe. “I can’t remember what I was going to say,” she chuckled and Owen smiled.  

“That good, huh?” he asked, his hand sliding over her waist and under her back. Her body lifted up into his, her hands skimming over his shoulders and down his spine. They were perfectly in place in each other’s arms, sweat and intimacy pervading the air. Owen would never admit to it, but it was the closest moment to romance he had in his life. There was something so raw - primal, even - about just laying there, staring at each other with caring hands and skin that was drenched with one another. 

“I want to say no because you have a big enough ego as it is,” she joked, her finger tapping on his back, drawing a pattern into his skin, almost as though she was claiming him as her own.

“But?” Owen smirked, his other hand cupping her face. Claire smiled into it, her chest heaving just a little more and Owen slid to her side, holding her against him and smiling at the sight of her. She, as always, was breathtaking. Claire always made it hard for Owen to let go. 

“If I can’t remember my own name, how the hell am I supposed to argue with you?” she giggled. Kissing along her shoulder, Owen felt utterly exhausted, his eyes opening and closing. He wanted to stop the nonsense of it all, but he was complied to do so against his will. Feeling the bed shift, he peeked his eyes open. “I’m going to bed, babe. Go sleep.” 

“You don’t have to leave,” he muttered, trying to reach out for her, but he was so damn tired. She suddenly leaned onto the bed, Owen’s shirt hanging over her frame largely. He felt her lips touch against his and he hummed against it. He wasn’t much with it after that, but he heard her say something sweetly. 

“I’m still yours, baby. All yours.” 

 

*~*~*

 

The passing of a few days, Owen was set up at work, not really seeing or talking to Claire when he was at home. It was awkward. They hadn’t talked. Owen remembered seeing Claire take a pill the morning after, but that was on Sunday. He hadn’t seen her in days, really. On Wednesday, he was sent home early, and knowing Wednesday’s, Claire was going to be home early too. And Owen wasn’t looking forward to the next conversation they were going to have. They hadn’t even talked about Saturday and now, god, she was going to get close to him and he was scared of it. 

Walking through the front door, his arm in a sling, Owen locked the door behind him. He tried to stay as silent as possible but when the latch clicked into place, there was a loud call to the door. Owen sighed, walking into the house and trying to shrug out of his jacket. Groaning, he removed the sling, letting his arm hang for a painful minute and shrug out of his jacket. The bandage around his arm was loose and Owen tightened it up again, just as the footsteps started to wander into the entrance.

Claire was in her lazy Wednesday clothes; her shorts and a baggy t-shirt she had stolen from Owen. It was laundry day. “I thought I heard the door. Why are you -”  Then, she saw his bandaged arm and gasped, covering her mouth. “Oh, my god, what happened!” she shouted, racing over to him and inspecting the bandage. She stared at it, like she had damn x-ray vision or something. 

“It's nothing,” Owen insisted, but she had a firm hold of his wrist.

“Owen,” she was stern that time. Owen swallowed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get out of it.

“One of the lions we’re caring for got a little rough,” he explained and Claire’s jaw gaped slightly before she began to persist again.

“Why didn't you ring me?” she asked roughly and Owen shrugged. 

“It's fine, Claire. I'm a tough guy,” he told her and Claire huffed in frustration. 

“But it was a lion,” Claire protested and Owen scoffed.

“Cub. Echo is harmless. She's just a little rougher than the others. I'm fine,” he laughed, taking his wrist from her hold and walking towards his bedroom. God, her eyes were filled with affection and caring...it was driving him nuts. If he could have Claire fully, he would indulge in those eyes.

“Do you -” she tried to plead once more, but as her foot went behind her opposite ankle, her fingers fiddling, Owen was lost in it all and he needed a breather. He just needed a second to regroup; remind himself that he shouldn’t have been caught up in it all. It was just sex. That’s all it was ever going to be. 

“I'm going to get some rest, maybe watch some Netflix later,” he said, heading towards his room.

“Owen, is everything okay?” Claire asked and Owen turned just before his door. She looked upset and hurt. Huffing, Owen rubbed the back of his neck, holding his injured arm against his stomach. 

“I'm just tired, Claire. Come chill with me later,” he shrugged, nodding at her before going into his room and laying on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, watching the lights flicker in from his window and the changing channels from the living room. The afternoon fell into night quickly and Owen’s door opened and shut again, the floorboards creaking underneath footsteps. His bed shifted and soon, Claire crawled into his bed, her head laying on his shoulder. She was curling into him nicely and she sighed.

“Don’t shut me out,” she whispered, her finger tracing on his chest. Owen looked down at her, those caring eyes saddened over a short period of time. Leaning down, Owen kissed the top of her head. 

“Never,” Owen whispered back. “Take out?” he asked and Claire rose, sniffing and nodding. They didn’t discussing anything over dinner, but they talked, they joked and they were happy. That’s all Owen needed. 

It had been a few weeks since, neither of them talking about what was really going on. There were feelings mixed in with it all, and they knew they couldn’t talk about it; yet neither of them wanted to stop. They had only managed one conversation about the entire endeavour...who they are going out with next. Throughout the entire experience, Owen hadn’t had anyone else - never wanted anyone else.

Owen said he would have dinner with a friend, Rita, and Claire was having a date with a man called Seth. When he called Rita, he knew he wouldn't have dinner until Saturday, but Claire was seeing Seth on Friday night. She wasn't exactly looking forward to it, her attitude towards the date was awful and she complained even though she had yet to go on it. The one she was looking forward to was Peter the night after. Owen still got irritated whenever Peter was brought up. He was jealous of a guy that was really nothing but rude to Claire. 

Claire came out into the living room, a skirt and blouse combo, all prepared for her date. She huffed as she stood in front of Owen, eyes that stared into him like desperate shells of longing. He didn’t want to overstep and say something he shouldn’t have, but knew Claire was probably trying to talk herself out of it anyway. She was nervous. Her fingers were fiddling with her skirt as her chest rose, trying to be confident. “Hey, Owen, so…” she started but Owen knew exactly what she wanted.

“Need something special before you go?” he raised his eyebrow and Claire nodded, in between her fingers, a condom ready to be used. Owen smirked. 

“I think I need something,” she mumbled and Owen didn’t need to be told twice. And he knew he was defacing their wall once more. He snatched the condom from her hand and when ready, placed it on and they began where they always did; shared shaky breaths and grunting that lasted until they were nearing their ends.

Taking her was like magic. It was like every time, electric and intoxicating. Yet, lately, Owen had been killing himself with the thought of Claire waking up beside him, curling up against him and talking to him with affection. He wanted intimacy with Claire; and that was the only way he was going to get it. He made sure every thrust, every movement was made to keep Claire on edge. 

Begging and pleading for her release, she was living artwork underneath his power. She was elegance and grace, the tightness of her brow as her oegasm rose, her beautiful hands scraping for some kind of ground to hold her steady. Her mouth ajar as her orgasm broke the first time, red lips of untouched beauty, ready for unspoken desires. Her legs shaking in his hands, their skin warm and lips sweet; a beautiful mess they were, combined together for a heated moment longer. She had a gorgeous ability to tear him apart with a glance. He was as much under her spell as she was to his. 

Their ends were met, blissful and erratic, a contradiction and completely true. Tidying herself up, Claire stood by the door, straightening out her skirt before she picked up her purse, kissed Owen and headed out the door. Owen didn’t wait around. He headed out the door soon after, wandering around the block, knowing Claire’s routine well enough to want the guy out of there by 11pm. Walking back to the apartment around 10pm, he didn’t hear much noise, which did seem a little odd, but he pushed it aside, setting down his keys he suddenly heard hurried footsteps. Claire emerged from around the corner, tying her robe up tightly. She gave an audible sigh when she saw him. “Oh, my roommate is here, I’m sorry but you should probably go,” she said in a hurried voice before pulling on a man’s arm, barely dressed and hair a mess. 

“I’ll call you?” he said, getting closer to the door and passing Owen. Claire hesitated, rubbing her arm. 

“Uh,” she stammered before shrugging. “Yeah.” Then the door was shut and her weight leaned into the door. She sighed and rolled her neck, groaning as she walked over to Owen. 

“He didn't stay long,” Owen commented. 

“You've either ruined my vagina or he hasn't got an ounce of natural talent in his body,” she remarked, getting water from the fridge. Owen scoffed before he smiled to himself.

“I hope it's the former,” he said slyly and Claire gave a soft chuckle back.

“It's a combination,” she shrugged, taking a sip of water and running a hand over the back of her neck. 

“Was he really that bad?” Owen laughed a little more, shrugging off his jacket, putting his jeans into the laundry basket and changing into some sweats.

“Owen, I have only had two orgasms today and they were from you. He would only do it if it was missionary and refused to let me on top. And he couldn't keep -”

“Ratings, babe, come on,” Owen interrupted quickly and Claire gave a small smile. Claire had a rating system in place, one she shared with Owen when he realised the extent of which she would get dates. Owen liked hearing about the other men, because some of the better looking men couldn’t hold a rank on her system even if they tried. 

“Natural talent, flat one. Rhythm was probably around a three and I'm being generous there. Care, woah, my first zero,” she explained and Owen scoffed again, waving off those scores.

“What about orgasm scale? Your favourite rating,” Owen said, throwing up his hands at her inability to go for the best scale there was. 

“Oh poor thing. He couldn’t even register,” Claire sighed, Owen clicking his tongue in disappointment; more so for Claire. 

“That's harsh,” he sighed. 

“You've never asked what your ratings are,” Claire said suddenly and Owen’s brow creased. He didn’t want to look directly at her.

“I'm not suicidal,” he laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck before meeting Claire’s eye. Her smirk tempted him, daring him to ask her the question. He swallowed hard. 

“Do you think you won't scale?” she teased, biting at her lip and Owen shook his head. 

“I'm not interested in being a guy like that,” he shrugged and Claire’s brow furrowed deeply. 

“Like what? Fun? Someone in my life?” she asked, her arms folded defensively. This was going to be something they weren’t going to run away from. And Owen knew his frustration had reached its end. 

“Those guys aren't apart of your life, Claire. They're here for a night and shoved out the door the second you don't need them. I'm not one of those assholes,” he explained, his voice raising and Claire scoffed at the notion of his words. 

“You think you're any better than them? That I didn't just pick you for another good time?” she asked him and Owen laughed. 

“It's clear that's all I am anymore,” he scoffed and noticed Claire’s hands now bound at either side of her.

“And how would you explain Peter? He’s more than what Seth was,” she finally yelled and he ran his hand over his mouth. Fucking Peter. He could fuck off for all Owen cared. 

“Really? Claire, he’s rude and awful to you. How do you even tolerate the guy?” Owen asked, shrugging, looking disappointed at the woman standing in front of him. Claire was angry and finally, she burst. Pushing hard into Owen’s chest, he stumbled back, watching her anger be unleashed in shouts. 

“He isn’t any of those things! He likes me for who I am, he listens to me and cares about me. It’s more than I can say about you, you arrogant son of a bitch,” she screamed and Owen sighed, nodding along to the end of her words. Claire covered her mouth, her eyes wide after realising what she had said. 

“It’s good to know how you really feel, Claire,” Owen said, sharply clearing his throat. 

“Owen, hey, I'm sorry. I just got mad. I didn't -” she tried but Owen shook his head.

“Don't say you didn't mean it,” he answered quickly. He scratched his brow, sighing. “I'm fun, I get it.” Owen went to his room, his chest in pain and his throat closing up. 

“I am sorry,” Claire called out. 

“So am I,” Owen whispered, going to his room and shutting the door. When it was shut, he cleared his throat, the only way to stop himself from getting emotional so quickly. The tears still stung at his eyes, however. She was tearing him apart alright. 

The next morning, they were awkward around each other, not walking too closely. Yet, they always found a way to get back to where they were. In Owen’s heart, he knew things were different, they were always going to be, but they were alright by lunch. They joked about some movie, the actor that Claire secretly liked and how Owen could be him if he wanted. Owen just laughed and they got on with their date. 

Claire was getting ready in the afternoon, prepping her hair. Owen, on the other hand, was nearly finished with his workout. Using the frame of his door, Owen was doing pull ups and switching to push ups in between. When he was trying to keep his mind focused, orientated on one single goal, working out helped. 

“So, date tonight?” Claire called out, walking out just as Owen dropped to the floor, his chest bare and sweat-ridden. Claire pinned an earring into her ear as Owen huffed, hands on his hips. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out, sharp breathing through his nose. 

“And you’re prepping for it?” Claire smirked and licking at his lip, he stepped towards Claire. 

“I think she’d like it, don’t you?” Owen joked. Claire rolled her eyes. 

“You’re just trying to seduce me or something,” Claire said, clicking her tongue.

“Is it working?” Owen asked, raising his brow. There was a sharp knock at the door and Owen groaned, knowing full well who it was. 

“I’m just going to get ready, can you get the door?” she asked, stepping back into her bedroom. Owen sighed.

“Sure,” he huffed, walking towards the door, catching a tea towel and wiping the back of his neck. Opening the door, Peter stood in a neat suit, adjusting his tie and Owen rolled his eyes. “Hey, Petey,” Owen joked and Peter clicked his tongue angrily. 

“Dude, don’t call me that,” Peter said forcefully. 

“Sorry,” Owen said, chuckling to himself. “She’s getting ready,” he told him, heading towards his room before Peter sighed, trying to stop Owen for a moment. 

“Dude, when my girl is around, you mind keeping a shirt on?” Peter asked.

“This is my apartment too,” Owen laughed, walking back over to Peter and crossing his arms in front of his chest, trying to intimidate the pinned up man in front of him. “but dude, if you're really self conscious about your relationship, maybe you should confirm it before getting all self righteous,” Owen tested and Peter’s brow furrowed. 

“What? And you think you have a shot with her?” Peter said in a hushed voice and Owen shrugged. 

“I think I'll be able to make her come louder than you could ever dream of, so yeah, maybe,” Owen said, and as the rage built up on his face, Claire came out from her bedroom and Owen walked back towards his room.  

“Hey babe, do you want to get Chinese for dinner?” Claire said, linking her arm with Peter’s. 

“Babe, you need a new roommate, he seems dangerous,” Peter whispered to Claire, though Owen could still hear. 

“He’s harmless, plus he’s getting ready for his own date tonight,” Claire mentioned before closing the door. Owen got changed, met up with Rita for a quick dinner and things got more interesting from there. Getting back to the apartment, he wasn’t sure if Claire was there or not, so Rita and he had some fun. Some good old fashioned  _ fun _ . 

Owen wasn’t much with it, he did the best he could, even had Rita yelling a little, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He did hear Claire and Peter at one stage, not doing anything, just talking a while after Rita and Owen were finished. Rita opened the window, smoking out the window in between getting dressed. Putting on his sweat pants, he walked with Rita to the front door. 

“That was fun, Owen,” Rita said, a small bead of sweat running down her bronze skin. Owen ushered the sweat from her neck before kissing her cheek goodbye. There was a sudden shift in the floorboards, so either Claire or Peter were wandering around the apartment. 

“Thanks for the night,” Owen smirked, opening the door and Rita smiled. 

“Sorry I have to get out of here, but I’ve got an early start,” she explained and Owen shrugged, understanding. “We’ll catch up for lunch,” she stated, not quite a question, yet not exactly a demand. 

“Tell your boyfriend I say hi,” Owen said, waving Rita as she walked down the hall. She giggled slightly before waving to Owen again. Then, as Owen turned, he saw Claire tying her robe around her, yawning a little as she weakly smiled at him. 

“Did she really have a boyfriend?” she asked and Owen shook his head.

“Nah, just a guy she wants to get together with,” he said, clearing his throat. It felt weird talking about this now, especially with Claire.

“Did you have fun?” she asked politely, but she didn’t look directly at him, just playing with her hands and biting at her lip. 

“It was alright,” he shrugged. Then, Claire walked around the little island bench they had, just opposite Owen. She fluttered her eyelashes and Owen felt utterly defenseless. 

“So, Peter’s asleep,” Claire whispered. Owen backed up, and yet, it was barely an inch.

“He’s going to get mad if he catches us and I know how you feel about him,” Owen whispered, chewing on the inside of his lip as he stared down at his feet. “Plus, if I fuck you, I’m going to make you come louder than what he does,” he confessed and Claire stepped forward.

“See if I care,” she whispered temptingly. 

“Claire…” Owen said slowly and Claire’s brow creased. He stared at her, swallowing hard as she blinked curiously at him. 

“What?” 

“As much as the guy pisses me off, I don’t do this,” he told her. “I want you so badly I’ve forgotten that I can’t have you,” he sighed and Claire’s mouth dropped open just a little, shocked.

“Owen, I -” 

“I’m just a plaything, I get it, I just forgot that along the way, I’m sorry,” he interrupted and cleared his throat.

“We can’t do this anymore, can we?” she said, staring down at her hands. Owen tilted her chin up, smirking as he knew he could joke. 

“I was really starting to love this apartment,” he laughed and Claire gave a soft giggle. And it was all downhill. Something changed, the energy in the room was thick and tempting and he couldn’t help the urge. “Fuck it,” he muttered before he leant down and kissed her. Claire moaned a little as they collided. 

Taking hold of her waist, he pulled her in, her hands on either side of his face and they were fighting against each other. They weren’t going to break, they were going to keep going until they were confused and dazed. Owen’s hands were wild against her body, pulling on her to get closer, grabbing onto her thigh and ass just to feel her soft body in his hands. She tugged on his hair, her nails skimming the back of his neck. 

Picking Claire up, he laid her out on the island bench, knocking things off and not caring in the slightest. Owen climbed onto the island on top of Claire, holding onto her waist and begging for this moment to last them a lifetime. As they kept knocking things off, one loud crash from one of the plates, breaking the apartment into silence. “Babe, are you okay?” Peter called out and Claire and Owen broke apart. Owen took a careful step on the floor, helping Claire down as she wiped the corner of her mouth.

“Fine, I just dropped a plate, it’s okay,” she shouted back.

“Whatever, just come back to bed,” Peter grumbled, Claire and Owen began cleaning up the plate quickly. When everything was thrown out, Owen and Claire stood next to each other, sighing as the passion was lost; sadness and regret invading their moment. 

“It was fun, Claire,” Owen smiled weakly. Claire rose on her toes, almost kissing him but she sniffed and avoided his lips. 

“It was more than that, Owen. But it doesn’t matter now, does it?” she cleared her throat before going back to her bedroom. Owen was left alone, swallowing harshly and his breathing shaking as he tried to come to terms with everything. 

“No, but god I wish it did,” he muttered to himself and cleared his throat. The tears stung. Never falling. But painful nonetheless. 


	3. I'm So Over Misbehaving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And i'm done. it's over. i'm done with this fic and done with everything. this is fucking awful and i hate with every ounce of me. Enjoy. xx

“Another ad?” Owen asked and as Claire began packing up his shirts, folding them delicately, she shook her head. She didn't reply, and Owen wasn’t sure if it was lack of courage, but no voice spoke to him. Standing by the kitchen bench, Owen was packing away some of his things, the box getting heavier by the sec. “I'm sorry for ruining this,” Owen mentioned, Claire suddenly looking up at him, her mouth readying to say something when Peter came into the room.

“Ruining what?” he said before Claire could say a word. Peter threw more of Owen’s boxes on the couch like it was nothing and Owen gritted his teeth. He hissed in slightly before sighing and slapping his hands on the kitchen island. 

“The bench. I've done some horrible things to this bench,” Owen smirked and Claire gave a weak smile back before ducking her head back to the box. Peter came around Claire’s side, his hand gracing around her waist and sliding down. Owen felt a lump get caught at the back of his throat. 

“Bleach that thing,” Peter whispered in her ear. Owen’s jaw clenched and Claire sighed, tapping up her box and smiling wide as she looked over her shoulder at Peter.

“Another box done,” she said with a forceful cheer. Owen picked up his own box as he walked over to Claire, bending for her to put the box on top of his own. 

“I'll take it down to the car,” he offered before Claire took it up into her hands and started out the door. 

“No, you just take that box,” she ordered and Owen nodded. 

“Don't argue dude,” Peter tried to high five Owen, smiling as he was getting chummy with Owen now. Shrugged as he held the box and Claire walked out the door. Owen followed behind, not too closely, but enough for her to know he was with her. They stood silently as the elevator rolled up and opened its doors.

They got inside, placing the boxes down at their feet. Pressing the button, Claire stood by Owen’s side, letting the elevator start up. It chattered and made sounds as it always did, the shaking a common occurrence for the old thing. 

“I'm sorry about him,” Claire apologised, clearing her throat. 

“It's fine,” Owen shrugged. They didn’t look at each other again. Then, the elevator jolted to a stop, forcing Owen and Claire to the back wall in surprise. “Stupid elevator,” Owen cursed, trying for the button again. The elevator stopped working from time to time. They may have been stuck in there for a short while or hours - just depended on what the elevator felt like that particular day.

“Owen?” Claire muttered and he turned to her. She cupped his face, bringing his lips down to hers. He stopped whatever he thought he was doing and reciprocated as quickly as he could. 

It wasn't seduction. It was want, it was craving that last taste. It was lingering and memorising. It was more than just a goodbye kiss, it was trying to say not to go. But they both had to let go. They barely held each other, knowing that the elevator would stop and they would be parted once more, but their fingers tried to dig, despite the anguish within them.

Then, he did. He took hold of her for the last time; his hands tender on her hips, pulling her in towards him. Owen felt her stumble slightly, her hands moving to his hair and tangling into his curls. This kiss, the one that hadn’t been seduction but everything they both wanted, turned sad. Owen had started to cry but before he could usher his tears away, he tasted hers on their lips. This wasn’t just painful for him, it was torture. 

The elevator jolted back to life and they were ripped apart. Claire looked fragile, the stain of tears on her cheeks. Owen cleaned his face, bending to pick up the box and Claire did the same. “I have one more box and then I’m gone. Stay with Peter. I’m not saying another goodbye,” Owen said, the elevator dinging and he stood, leaving Claire at the foot of the elevator. He got to his car, put in the backseat, took the one from Claire and didn’t look at her once. He couldn’t do it anymore. Saying goodbye was the hardest thing he ever did. 

Two month went by. Owen was back with his sister. They didn’t fight anymore; Owen didn’t have the strength to argue about anything anymore. He didn’t shave much anymore, he didn’t feel like it - the task seemingly exhausting. His sister consoled him when he finally told her about Claire. They didn’t bring up the topic again. When Owen and his sister got the chance, they would have lunch with their mother, go out and have a nice meal. On this particular day, Owen wasn’t feeling the best, his heart feeling a little more broken and tired. 

Owen’s phone started to blare and he excused himself from the table, walking out onto the street and answering the call. “Hello?” he asked. 

“Is this Owen Grady?” A woman’s voice asked and Owen’s brow crinkled.

“Yes, this is Owen. Who am I speaking with?” he questioned. 

“Karen. Karen Mitchell, Cl -” 

“Claire’s sister? Is everything okay?” he immediately asked, his unfortunate heart leaping in his chest.

“I think so? But uh, I haven’t heard from her in a few days. It may even be a week. I know you’re not there anymore but she still talked about you and I think something’s up. If it’s not too much trouble, can you -” 

“I’ll call her right now and text you at this number, okay?” Owen told her and she sighed. 

“Yes, thank you,” she said, her voice sounding lighter and relieved. Hanging up, Owen found Claire’s number still sitting in his phone. He thought he may have hesitated before calling, but he didn’t; he was worried now. It rang a few times before there was an answer. A small sniff on the other end.

“Claire, is everything okay?” he asked in a rushed voice. Another sniff.

“Owen?” It was her voice. Shaken and unsteady. 

“Claire, your sister is going out of her mind. She says you haven’t spoken to her in a couple of days. You talk to Karen every damn day. What’s wrong?” he asked her and she gave a little whimper. Owen’s heart sank and he gripped his phone a little tighter.

“Owen I need you, please,” she spoke softly, almost as if she was further away from her phone. Owen feared the worst. 

“Claire? Hey, Claire, I’m on my way, are you at home?” he asked, hurrying back into the restaurant for his coat. 

“Yes,” she replied softly. Owen grabbed his coat, clutching it tightly in his hand. 

“I’ll be right over,” he said, hanging up and swinging the coat over his shoulders. “I’ve gotta go,” he said, kissing his mother’s cheek and waving to his sister. He felt like he was driving like a mad man before he eventually made it to the apartment again. The elevator was the same, the walk to the door was the same. He didn’t know, he just tried the door. Open. Walking inside, it was like a war zone - scattered books, broken glass, thrown furniture. 

And there she was, curled up on the couch, crying hard and brutally. Owen raced over, kneeling down before her and picked up her face. Claire shivered out of surprise and she finally saw him. She flung her arms around him, holding him close as she cried a little more. Taking her apart from him, he cupped her face. Nothing bruised or cut. She wasn’t hurt; physically anyway. 

“Hey, gorgeous, hey what’s wrong?” he asked, running his thumb underneath her eyes, clearing away the smudged makeup underneath her eyes. She sniffed, groaning at herself more than anything else. 

“This is so pathetic, he told me he’s going to marry a girl that was more respectable than me, one that wasn’t a….a slut,” she whimpered. “He broke it off and told me to not call him,” she told him, her bottom lip quivering. 

“And the house is like this because?” he asked, glancing around. She took a look and chuckled. 

“I got mad,” she said simply. Owen pursed his lips before smiling. 

“You know, I’m glad I never made you mad,” he said a laughing emerging and Claire gave a faint smile. 

“Why are you here?” she asked, taking hold of his hands. He swallowed hard. 

“Claire,” he mumbled. 

“Why did you come back?” she persisted and owen licked at his lips nervously. 

“You already know the answer,” he said, meeting her eyes. 

“Are you going to leave again?” she asked and Owen shook his head. He took her hand in his own, tugging her from the couch and guiding her towards the bathroom. 

“Shower. I’ll make you some food. I’ve gotta call Karen, but get yourself together Dearing. You don’t cry over guys, guys cry over you,” he smirked and she scoffed. Her hand ran over his prickly cheek and she shut the door behind her. Owen heard the shower go before he went into the kitchen. He called Karen, telling her Claire was fine but she might need a few days. She thanked him before he started on the meal. It was Claire’s favourite; creamy chicken penne pasta. 

It was all finished when Claire came out of the bathroom. She was in pajamas, before she took a seat across from him. He handed her the bowl and questioned her every so often, making sure she’d been taking care of herself the last couple of days; eating, sleeping, drinking right. She shrugged. Owen cleaned up her apartment, putting things back where they belonged, gathering up the broken glass and throwing it away. Then, Claire got tired, not announcing it but Owen could tell the signs and he took her to bed. 

Tucking her inside her sheets, she looked up at him. “Stay,” she muttered, reaching out for him. 

“I’ll be right next door,” he said before she sat up, her face tired and frightened. 

“I don’t want to be alone,” she mumbled and Owen nodded. He took off his shoes and his coat, getting into bed beside Claire. She cuddled into him quickly, burying her face into his chest for comfort. Holding her with hesitant hand, he held her as closely as he could. She fit into him so precisely, it was like they were magnets drawn together. Stroking her hair, a soft hand running along her back, their breathing became in sync and they fell completely into slumber. 

When Owen woke, his arms were still wrapped around her, her body distancing from his but still within each other’s grasp. Claire wasn’t awake yet, but as Owen shifted, she woke soundly, smiling at him. He smiled back, kind of dazed and pleased with the sight before him. He beamed, looking at the light on her hair and how the morning seemed to make her seem brighter. Claire’s brow furrowed as he watched her. 

“What are you looking at?” she asked.

“I’ve never seen you when I’ve woken up before,” he chimed and Claire giggled, bunching her hand into his shirt. 

“Enjoying yourself?” she smiled and Owen bit at his lip, his forehead leaning against hers. 

“Very much so,” he replied and Claire pursed her lips. She avoided looking at him. Letting her fingers find their way to his chest and her hand lying flat against his skin. 

“I'm sorry about my pride. How stubborn and mean I can be,” she said, her shoulders curling up to shield herself from him. Owen made her his arms around her, held her with comfort and warmth, not an inch cold or a portion of skin unloved. 

“Yeah, but I love those things about you. There's no need to apologise,” he confessed, pressing his lips to her forehead and sighing as he parted from her. Claire sighed, pulling herself into him a little tighter. They stayed there for some time, not moving, just holding onto the last moments before they would have to wake. But they had to wake. 

Claire got dressed and Owen went into his old room. It was exactly the way he left it, not touched since he had last been there. An old mattress that he willingly called his own once still sat there, unmade and sadly lit without the light on. Owen crept inside, finding some clothes he realised he left after getting to his sister’s. He changed, sitting on the bed and playing with his hands. What was he even doing there? He shouldn’t be there? Owen kept coming back to the thought that he was wanted, that he wasn’t just a thing she liked having around - that he was wanted by her with heart and soul. Why was he indulging in it. 

“I was never interested in the sex with you,” Claire stated and Owen’s attention shot to her. 

“Confidence boost,” he jested and Claire bounced off the door frame.

“It was the only way we could be frank with each other without it getting weird,” she shrugged, her arms folded in front of her chest as she made her way over to the bed. 

“What did you want me for?” he asked, feeling the shift in the bed at his side as Claire took her place. 

“A friend. More than a friend. It didn’t take me long to realise I couldn’t live without you,” she shrugged again, her hands nervously playing. 

“And Peter?” Owen asked.

“He distracted me,” she confessed, turning to him. “I was caught up in him wanting me that I didn’t realise how lucky I was to have someone that made love to me instead of just screwing around in the backseat of his car,” her eyes were sad, guilty and unsure of herself. Owen cupped her face, making sure she was with him, knowing that he didn’t blame her. 

“You know, you and me probably could have waited for Peter to fuck up,” Owen quipped and Claire laughed. 

“Like I would ever use you as a rebound,” she sniffed and Owen shrugged. 

“Do you want a rebound?” 

Claire hesitated before she bit at her lip. “No. I just...I want you,” her voice getting a little breathless. Then, she pounced forward, her lips catching Owen’s desperately. Owen fell for them easily, the taste still sweet and unforgettable. Claire’s weight shifted onto him, her hands trying to cling to him tighter. Claire moaned and Owen felt his heart do flips in his chest. “Owen,” she whimpered and Owen had to fight to urge to toss her down onto the bed. 

“Claire, you just -” 

“I don’t care. I just don’t care about him right now. I only ever want you,” Claire said quickly, her legs wrapping around his waist. Owen felt compelled to tell her no, to push her off and to just stay perfectly separate from each other. But, he felt her against him, felt how she still loved to be with him. Owen gave over to it, gave over to all the thoughts he had over the last month and how he missed her. He wanted her, wanted to have her all over again. 

Owen pulled her in tighter. “I want you to remember the way I feel inside you. I want you to never forget,” he muttered against her lip, breathing harshly and an unforgiving grip into her ass. 

“I could never forget,” Claire said breathlessly. Owen tore her shirt over her head, snaking his hands around her back to unclasp her bra. Kissing across her chest, her ran his tongue over her nipple and her head fell back. Claire’s hands worked as best as they could to take his shirt off as well as unbuttoning his pants. She moaned as his mouth worked over her and he released her from her torment. He helped her out of her pants and underwear as she tore him out of his.

Moving further up on the bed, Owen help her onto his lap. Claire licked at her hand, running it over his shaft, then she guided herself down onto him. It took little effort for Claire to moan as she took a stride onto his cock. 

“Remember this? Remember how it feels?” Owen muttered, thrusting up into her quickly. Claire hummed, latching her hands into his shoulders. 

“I’d be stupid to forget,” she giggled and the vibrations were shocking him all over. Owen took a hard thrust into her again and she moaned. Owen moved his hips, Claire’s body arching into his to gain friction. 

“Do you remember the first time we did this? The same way?” Owen asked, his mouth going to her neck. Her pulse was racing underneath his tongue. 

“Owen,” she whimpered. 

“Claire, tell me,” Owen said, thrusting into her deeply. Claire whined, pushing herself further into his lap.

“Yes. I remember,” Claire muttered, kissing him sharply before grinding down onto Owen, breathing hard and desperately. “I remember the way your cock felt inside of me,” she whimpered again, Owen’s hand reaching for her breast. “The way you held me when I needed you the most. The way you could make me feel weak and powerful all at once,” she said weakly. Pulling in hard, Claire ground down, breathing terribly hard. 

“How powerful do you want to feel?” Owen asked, kissing her quickly and Claire whimpered against his lips. 

“Like a warrior,” she replied, smiling against his lips. 

“And weak?” Owen chimed.

“Like a beggar,” Claire said in a shaken voice.

“I can help with the begging,” he smirked, thrusting deep into her again. Claire moaned. It took no time at all for their bodies to become in sync, moving together to gain friction and faster thrusts to have her weak beneath him. He was doing it all. Even as he held her, she was fighting the urge to give up so soon, so eagerly. Owen wasn’t going to let her have the satisfaction just yet. 

Burying himself deeper, he took her hips, sliding his cock in and out of her with forces that had her moaning and gripping into him with the loss of grip the next thrust. He kissed her, filling her body and making sure he felt her first orgasm begin. Her breathing hitched and her inner walls clamped down on him. The next few moments were going to unravel her, have her begging the way he wanted her to. He took his chance, sliding his fingers down her stomach and touching at her clit. Claire gasped, tucking her head into his shoulder as she was struggling to breathe and stay stable. 

“Yes, oh god, right there!” Claire begged as her orgasm broke. Owen smiled at her before tossing her back onto the bed. Curling his arm around her back, he started to move into her as fast as he could, some thrusts harder than others and her moans getting wild. Claire let her nails rip into his back, begging him for more time, begging him for a release or just to keep going. She was doing it all. Owen enjoyed himself. 

Owen felt Claire’s hips circle, asking Owen to add something more. The warrior was raring to go and Owen loved it. He pulled himself out of her, just enough to still have his tip inside of her. Then, he pushed himself deep into her. Claire moaned, kissing his shoulder and her hand rounded his ass before she gave the hardest hand to his backside. He winced and Claire smiled up at him. Owen drove himself into her with every ounce of energy he had left, asking whatever his body could give to finally give it to her. 

Owen felt the pressure in his back, radiating in a tight hold of his stomach. He was going to cum soon, and he knew he might finish before Claire, but he didn’t want to. He tried to pull his punches, sense where Claire was, and she was whimpering, her body begging to be on his again. “Owen, please,” she begged once more. Owen thrust into her with everything he had left and suddenly a cry came from Claire. Her body reacted almost violently; her nails scratched, she bit into his arm forcing him to buckle down on his elbows, and her body pushed itself into him with everything she had. And it was Owen’s undoing. He poured into her, collapsing down to meet her in their finish. They stayed together for some time before they parted and stayed on the mattress; naked and unashamed. 

Owen could feel Claire curling at his side, finding comfort under his arm. “We really have to work out when having sex is the right time for us,” Owen said lazily, kissing Claire’s head. 

“We will, caveman,” Claire giggled, running her finger over his chest hair. 

“I’m sorry?” he said with a crinkled brow and Claire laughed again. 

“The beard,” she mentioned, letting her hand reach up and run her finger over his scratchy jawline. “I like you better with a beard,” she continued and smiled up at him. Owen sighed, running his hand over his beard.

“You think so?”

“I don't know, I just like the way your face looks,” she shrugged and Owen pulled her closer. 

“You like the way my face looks?” he suggested and Claire shoved him in the ribs. 

“Oh shut up,” she laughed. Then, Owen felt like his thoughts were being cruel, that they were making him question things. He hated that he felt like that, questioning Claire after everything. Owen sighed before he planted a kiss on Claire’s crown and stared down at her. 

“Are you okay though?” he asked and Claire looked up at him. “I mean, I’m okay with you needing to get over Peter, but I want to be with you, and I don’t want to get sucked in -” 

“I’m with you, Owen. For however long this last; maybe two week, two year, or two decades. I will be here with you,” she said, smiling nervously; she had revealed herself far more than she had planned to, the small lick at her lips as she waited for him to say something. He leaned down, catching her bottom lip between his. Owen felt the soft sigh she gave and the smile that rose when he kissed her. He sighed into it himself. 

They stayed in that bed for most of the day, moving to her bedroom for cover and more sex. Their bodies together meant peace but it was the reunion they need, moments where they could taste each other’s skin and be with each other unafraid. Owen also commented that it was the first time they had sex in her room. Claire just laughed. 

They got up, Owen dressed in the clothes he arrived in. Claire on the other hand dressed in a flannel and jeans, looking like her old self - happy and content with being where she is. They were cleaning the kitchen, trying to get the house back in order. Owen was cleaning the dishes in the sink and Claire sat beside it to dry them.

“You’re lucky you hadn’t cashed in your vacation days for years. You’d definitely be fired by now if you had,” Owen laughed as he passed Claire another dish. She huffed at the thought and put the dish up in the cupboard. 

“And you?” 

“The boss likes me. I’ve gotta go in everyday before Christmas, but I can deal with that,” Owen shrugged, continuing to clean the dishes. It was silent for some time before Claire cleared her throat. 

“Were you in love with me?” Claire asked and Owen froze. He felt cornered with Claire sitting there confidently. Owen licked at his lips, continuing to wash the things in the sink and avoiding looking right at her. 

“Huh?” he said, handing her the next dish to dry. Claire huffed as she explained. 

“It was the way you acted. You wanted things slow, you looked at me more than you probably should have. I don’t know, you just seemed -” 

“Yeah, I was,” Owen said bluntly, still working on the things in the sink. He looked to the side, swallowing hard as he met her eye. Claire was smiling over to him, a smile that made his heart race and his pulse jump. 

“So was I,” she said in a wavering voice, as though it was the first time she was admitting it herself. 

“Didn’t quite realise it?” he said, knocking his hip against her knee. She nodded. 

“Peter distracted me,” she shrugged again. 

“It’s okay,” he commented, finishing the dishes and handing the last one over to her. He dried his hands with the ends of her dish cloth. 

“You’re too good to me. Especially after everything I did,” she remarked and Owen shook his head, letting his hand rest on her knee. 

“I got to know you more than the other guys did. I got to touch you like they never could,” Owen smiled, his hand sliding up the inside of her leg and Claire chuckled, spreading her legs for his hand to move easily up.

“Are you always such a romantic?” Claire chimed, her forehead leaning against Owen’s.

“Only for you, babe,” he said, tilting her chin up and kissing her swiftly. Claire’s arms went around his neck, pushing herself to the edge of the bench and locking her ankles around him. Owen let his hands run over her thighs before sliding around her ass, tucking his hands into the back pockets. 

“It’d be wrong if we fucked again, wouldn’t it?” Claire muttered against his lips and Owen chuckled.

“We have no more condoms,” Owen reminded her and Claire sighed. 

“Dammit,” Claire cursed, breathing heavily. Then, Owen remembered, breaking them apart. 

“I just remembered,” he said, moving towards the top cupboard behind all the coffee mugs. “I kept them in here,” he laughed and Claire giggled, stepping off the counter and unbuttoning her jeans. 

“Where did you expect us to have sex?” she smiled, moving the jeans down her legs and unbuttoning her flannel shirt. 

“Everywhere,” Owen shrugged, unbuttoning his jeans as Claire made her way towards him. 

“Good thinking,” she muttered before they both fell into each other’s embrace. Owen helped Claire out of her shirt, moving them towards the bedroom as Claire unbuttoned his shirt as well. Claire threw his shirt across the room, stepping on her tiptoes to reach Owen with each kiss. Owen held her tightly but before they could even make it to her room, there was a knock at the front door. They both groaned as they parted. 

“Shit,” Claire cursed. Owen huffed, rushing to her room and grabbing a robe. 

“Robe,” he called out, throwing it to her. She smiled at him.

“Thanks,” she said, slipping her arms through the sleeves and tying the robe around her tightly. 

“I’ll go back to the bedroom, alright?” he told her. She gave him a quick kiss before making it back around the corner. 

“I’ll be just a second, I promise,” she whispered, winking and answered the front door. “Peter?” her voice was weak and startled. Owen stayed put, listening to the conversation. 

“Claire, hey,” Peter’s voice said cheerfully. Owen stepped cautiously on the floorboards, trying to hear the conversation better. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Claire asked. 

“I just, I left things really badly and I wanted to make sure everything was okay?” he said and Claire cleared her throat. Owen peered around the corner, noticing that she barely held the door open and her body was small, nervous and uncomfortable. 

“It’s fine,” she commented, looking back at Owen briefly. 

“Good...that’s good,” Peter continued. “Listen, do you want to grab dinner and maybe see a movie?” he asked and Owen got a devilish idea. He went rushing around, making as much noise as he could with walking and then he called out to Claire.

“Hey babe, did you see where I put my shirt? I swear to god you threw it on the couch,” he said, making his way over to Claire and kissing her exposed neck. Then, he looked up to see a shocked Peter and Owen felt confident with his choices. “Oh, hi Peter,” Owen quipped and tried to hide his pride. 

“When did this -” 

“This happened a couple of days ago. On the bench, on the walls -” Claire was lying through her teeth just a little, and Owen was willing to play along.

“Oh, don’t forget the shower, babe,” Owen lied along with her. 

“Oh yeah, how could I forget the shower,” Claire smiled, pulling Owen’s hand around her waist and holding him there. 

“And you two are -” 

“We’ve been fucking for a while actually. But when you were gone, we could finally just get on with the real relationship part of it,” Owen said in a snap. 

“You’ve been - and you two are?” Peter stuttered.

“We’re good,” Claire shrugged. “Listen, dinner would be great, but my boyfriend is about to fuck me harder than you ever could. Bye, honey,” she said, quickly closing the door and Owen laughed as he came face to face with her. 

“I’m just going to say it, that was really hot,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers. 

“Good,” Claire said, batting her eyelashes. Owen picked her up into his hold, her legs going around his waist. “Hey...I might love you and I want to -” 

“I love you too, babe,” Owen replied quickly, kissing her. There was a sigh that Claire gave, content...at peace. Owen was too.


End file.
